


Two-Player

by star_named_andy



Series: Paws-itivity [5]
Category: The Hobbit (1977), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Depression, Fluff, M/M, cat!Bard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 22:19:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4155084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/star_named_andy/pseuds/star_named_andy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After hearing plenty of shocking news from Bard, Thranduil fears he'll be dragged back down into an all too familiar shroud of darkness, knowing now that the world is not at all what he thought it was, but Bard is more than just cursed. He seems magic, in a way...so maybe things aren't so hopeless. Could it be that they actually both need each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two-Player

**Author's Note:**

> (Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, or any of its characters or content.)

Bard was far too immersed in his food to make conversation. Thranduil was glad and that slim gladness was the only thing he felt other than overwhelming confusion. The rest was unwelcome emptiness. He was a hollow body. He was meaningless. He was nothing other than an absent form with breath somehow still flowing through it. The feeling would soon leave him and a rush of parasitic thoughts would soon bust through his numbness, filling him with paranoia.

The slight comfort he had secured in his life had been shattered, all with just a few words from Bard. His safe bubble had been popped. He was thoroughly disturbed and shaken to the point where Thanduil didn’t even feel like himself. What he was in that moment was a primitive human who knew absolutely nothing of the world he thought he knew; every shadow was larger, every light scarcer and dimmer. The small world he’d come to know had expanded in the blink of an eye, and now Thranduil was the small one in a very colossal and imposing world.

He felt exposed and was itching to run, but the shaking of his legs made such an option seem impossible. He wanted to get up and leave the brunette that had so easily slipped under his skin, go and find Legolas, and take him somewhere isolated where they could be alone and where Legolas could be protected from whatever odd things hid in corners of the world that Thranduil did not want to encounter, like spell casting dragons and whatever else there was that he didn’t know about. The question of “ _What else is there?_ ” weighed heavily on his bones, cracking them with force. His skin was dry, fragile paper ready to crinkle and disintegrate at any second. The frantic _need_ to hide and evade misfortune and death as long as he could manage was suddenly destroying him all over again. He’d already been poisoned by such things once and was not ready to face them again…ever.

He hadn’t felt so vulnerable in a long time…not in front of other people, at least.

Thranduil shamefully indulged in sadness when it claimed him in his solitude. It was mostly at night when he laid down in his bed that tears would slide effortlessly from his eyes, always ready to fall, but never allowed to unless their master was shrouded in pure darkness. It was so easy to cry at the end of the day, especially when it had been creeping in his body all day long, reaching up his throat, infecting his chest, tainting his mind with selfish thoughts. He simply drowned himself in work, in meaningless tasks and dates, and spoiled his son rotten whenever possible to fight off his agony with the brightness of Legolas’ features when he was given an exquisite gift. Those moments were everything, but as soon as they passed, they were nothing. Once Legolas was gone, his happiness with him, Thranduil could not cling to short spark. It was like trying to relight a candle whose wick was too small, impossible to ignite.

This entire scenario was just the thing to send Thranduil into a true, almighty downward spiral, the one that had been threatening him for years. The shock had settled, and now it was ruining him. He couldn’t handle a stress this size, there was no way.

There was _no way._

He never, _ever_ willingly let Legolas through the doors of his despair, though the young one knew they were there. Thranduil dodged the topic whenever it was brought about. Even simple questions like “How are you today?” made him anxious. Despite all of this, he had the strong urge to find his son and hold him while he submitted to sorrow.

“Thranduil?” Bard spoke and the blonde did not move.

“Hm?” he responded, his eyes not moving from the tabletop.

“Aren’t you hungry?” the brunette asked innocently.

Thranduil felt ill for wishing him dead. None of this was quite Bard’s fault. He was simply seeking a way out of his own misery, but Thranduil was not the way.

He could not allow himself to be dragged into doom by this creature.

“No.” Thranduil said lowly back, glancing at the untouched soup. The steam had ceased rising from it long ago. He then peered over to Bard’s cleared plate. “You’re finished?”

“Yes. It was delicious, the best. Thank you.”

Thranduil waved his hand in the air a bit rudely, summoning the waitress and the check along with her. When she inquired about his soup, he simply excused it for a false loss of appetite. He pulled out a fifty dollar bill and laid it there for her to take, though it was more than enough to cover such a miniscule expense. He instructed her to keep the change and stood, gesturing for Bard to follow. Bard waved, saying thank you and goodbye to the girl before lagging behind the blonde out the door and back into the night air.

“Thank you, again, Thranduil.” Bard spoke up meekly as he walked close to the blonde’s side. He shoved into him lightly and Thranduil moved away. When Bard repeated the movement Thranduil had thought was just clumsy, the taller man scowled at the brunette.

“If you’re not a cat then stop acting like one.”

“It’s hard to break such habits after so many years, and it’s only out of affection.”

“I don’t need any more thanks.”

“Are we going back now?”

“Yes.”

“But I thought we could…maybe not today.”

“Definitely not today, whatever it is.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“I’m busy tomorrow.”

“Oh, but I wanted to come out in the daytime.”

“Maybe Legolas will take you.”

“I thought you didn’t want him to know?”

“I don’t, but I don’t see how I’m going to explain his cat going missing and you staying in the house, so I really don’t have any choice in the matter.”

“I’m glad you’ve decided that, but I’d much rather go out with you.”

“Why?”

“Obvious reasons.”

It was left at that. Thranduil didn’t care to recap all Bard had to say about Thranduil being “ _the one_ ” and how Bard was “ _drawn to him_ ”.

 

Whatever had made Bard silent on the car ride home was a blessing and a blight. The quiet gave the darkness in Thranduil’s body room to grow. If Bard had said anything, it wouldn’t have mattered. The darkness would find a way to mature.

Thranduil missed his wife. He missed just having someone to share secrets, ultimate trust, and intimacy with. He missed simpler times. He didn’t just miss all of those things. _He craved them_.

Tonight was the night. Tonight was the breaking point. He hadn’t felt this down since his early days of mourning and it seemed there was no turning back, no escape.

Why had Bard’s tale had such an impact on him?

The engine fell silent as the car was turned off. Thranduil did not wait for Bard and emerged, heading toward the door. The brunette quickly caught up and was waiting right behind him as Thranduil dug out his house key to unlock the door. He jammed the jagged end of the key toward the hole, and missed completely, jamming the key around the lock. The key clinked to the ground and Thranduil’s despair moaned out of him, his hand slamming against the door as his anguish thrashed against his insides, yelling for release. He had at least wanted to make it to his bedroom first, but now he was just barely suppressing the cold fire of misery that always lurked and now threatened.

“Here.” Bard said quietly and Thranduil turned, seeing the key glittering in Bard’s hand against the moonbeams. Thranduil looked up from the key and into Bard’s round and golden eyes, seeing how much they truly lit up in the blackness of night, just like a cat’s. Even in disguise, there was no hiding his cursed identity from Thranduil. Such a mystery, the brunette was. Thranduil wanted to stand there mindlessly captivated by feline eyes surrounded by lovely freckles, but his inner demons and his better sense peeking through the shadows tugged him back toward the door. “Really Thranduil, are you going to let yourself melt into a pathetic puddle with this _creature_ you hardly know?” spoke his conscience.

He took the key and felt for the hole with his hand, so he was sure to make his mark. He managed to stick it in correctly and the door gave a relieving _click_ as the key was turned.

Taking the first step inside the vacant house, the warmth emanating beside him made Thranduil want to cling to the man beside him and let himself have comfort, no matter how weird Bard may be. Of course, he abstained from such immature action (he perceived it to be immature, at least, only because they were hardly acquainted).

Thranduil knew the house well enough to navigate easily to and up the stairway without light, and Bard who most likely possessed some form of enhanced night vision did so as well. When Thranduil reached his bedroom door, he stopped, realizing by the ringing of the bell that shook on Bard’s blue collar in his hands that the brunette was behind him.

“I’ll get you some night wear.” Thranduil said, pushing open his door and flicking on the overhead light. He frowned, seeing the mess from earlier.

“I can sleep nude. I don’t mind.” Bard said with a shrug, but Thranduil was already sorting through his drawers, because he certainly minded.

He selected a clean t-shirt and a pair of silk pajama bottoms without much deliberation, turned toward the door to hand them over to Bard, and opened his mouth to tell him that he would be undressing and dressing by himself, but Bard wasn’t standing there. He peered out the doorway, looking around until Bard’s voice called to him from within his own room.

“What are you doing?” he asked, and the blonde spun around to see Bard laying on the bed on his stomach.

“ _Oh no_. You’re not sleeping in my bedroom.” Thranduil said and Bard blinked at him with brows furrowed in offense.

“Where am I supposed to sleep? I’m not sleeping in the tiny cat bed Legolas gave me. It may be cozy when I’m small and four-legged, but I won’t fit like this. Can you take these clothes off of me now?” He removed the baseball cap as he went on, letting it fall from his hand to the floor as he rolled onto his back and sprawled out his limbs, his lips twisting into a smile as his ears wiggled freely. “Your bed is comfortable, Thranduil.” He spoke in a near purr.

Wrapping Thranduil’s name in such a velvet sound was devilish and sweet.

“You can sleep in a guest room, and you will take the clothes off yourself, since you are capable. Please, just do as I say. I’m very tired and I’d like to be alone.” Thranduil sighed.

“I know. That’s why I’m not leaving.” Bard said simply and Thranduil squinted his eyes at him. He only received a smile and a pat on the bed in return. “You said you were tired. I’m tired too, so let’s sleep. You let me lay on your chest, remember? This isn’t any different.”

Well…what could be so bad about letting him stay? Bard was a distraction, dulling the points of the thorns deep in within him just a little. Thranduil hated to recognize such a fact, but it was the truth, and Bard could keep Thranduil from doing anything he might regret for the night. Or maybe he’d just make Thranduil engage in a whole other level of regrettable things, but that was far less likely. Thranduil didn’t have the energy or the mindset for such things.

“You need pajamas.” Thranduil said and Bard pouted as he glanced at the pile Thranduil held.

“Do I really need _all that?_ ”

“You’re not sleeping naked in my bed unless I approve of it, which I don’t.”

“So you’ll let me stay here with you for the night?” Bard shot up as he asked, his ears twitching with excitement and his stunning eyes huge in size.

“As long as you wear pajamas and don’t irritate me.” Thranduil said slowly, nodding and assuring himself that what he had just uttered was real and that he meant it. Bard’s smile was almost infectious.

“Alright! Will you help me?”

“ _No_.”

“Thought I’d give it a shot.” Bard laughed and reached out for the clothing. Thranduil extended it to him, but Bard only took the t-shirt, shaking his head at the pants after giving Thranduil the up-down, which made the blonde blush.

“What?” he questioned sharply.

“You are much taller than me. Those pants will be too big on me. I’ll just wear the underwear under these jeans with the shirt.”

Bard stood from the bed and Thranduil’s brow pulsated briefly at how he popped the button from its hole, opened the zipper, and shimmied the pants off with no difficulty whatsoever. He quickly turned away and plucked another t-shirt for himself from his open drawer before closing it. He let himself stand there a moment, knowing as he let his eyes flutter shut that he might just be too exhausted to wander downstairs and separate himself from the world to let his tears spill out this night. He would just lay back in his bed and let Bard chase away the dreadfulness that haunted him, _just this once_ , and he wouldn’t say a word about it; he wouldn’t give the brunette that kind of powerful information, letting him know how soft he really was. He ran a hand back through his hair and then shuddered as his shoulders were touched tenderly.

“Your hair is very beautiful.” Bard chimed from behind and rubbed his cheek along the soft plait of hair down Thranduil’s back. “Smells so good, too. I’d love to brush it, if you would let me.”

“I don’t think I could stay awake for that.” Thranduil said, despite the fact that he did brush his hair and his teeth every night before sleep and whatever came before it as he laid in bed. He was just too drained.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes.” Thranduil said, just wanting to get into bed, and he heard Bard hum happily. He probably would have agreed to any ridiculous request that could be fulfilled the next day if he could just crawl into bed at that moment. “I need to change.” He said flatly, indicating that Bard needed to move, and he did move, but not in the way Thranduil wanted.

The blonde gasped as arms snaked around his hips and tan fingers worked at his belt, unfastening it and sliding it from its loops. It folded to the ground as Bard’s hand released it, and then those invading fingers were on the button of his pants. He was wracked by nervousness and timidity – what was wrong with him? He was never this way in these kinds of situations, but then again, this was no normal man he’d be sharing his bed with. Besides that, Thranduil hadn’t _really_ had any intent to be so physically close to Bard or let Bard be the one to touch him, of all things. Thranduil had lost control…actually, he’d never had it at all ever since this problem had started unraveling.

“What are you doing?” Thranduil asked in a fast breath, the zipper of his trousers sliding down and the waistband loosened around his hips.

“Just helping. You helped me earlier.” Bard replied simply, as if this were _normal_ , given their knowledge of each other (which wasn’t extensive).

“Don’t toy with me to the extent of madness.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know how to be human. There is no need in masking it with this game you have going.”

“The game I play is one I very well may end up losing, and it’s more complicated than you know.”

Any further questions waiting on Thranduil’s tongue vanished as his pants dropped to his ankles and Bard’s hands rose, starting from the bottom of his shirt as he undid every button all the way to the top. His tie was slackened carefully, the knot untied, and it was slipped from around his neck. His shirt was peeled from his body and Thranduil bared a nervous smile.

“Have you done this sort of thing before?” he asked and a short, pleasant hum of a laugh sounded in Bard’s throat.

“No.” he replied easily.

The blonde stepped out from his pants and he was beckoned to turn and face Bard by the touch of the brunette’s hand on his arm. Thranduil heeded the sign and turned, looking down at the moonie whose eyes were roaming over his revealed skin with curiosity. Though there was nothing in the way that Bard looked at him that eluded to attraction, Thranduil still blushed. It seemed that the heat rising in his cheeks and spreading through his body was a common occurrence today, and he knew the cause of it, but still didn’t quite understand _why_.

Thranduil been admired plenty of times by various types of people in many settings, whether it was out in the public eye by strangers or in his bedroom by lovers he’d chosen. He was always indifferent, uncaring, or just a tad appreciative if in an intimate setting, but he had never been bashful by any of their gazes. No one had had such a powerful effect on him in a long time, and Thranduil wasn’t sure if he approved. The only ones to ever strike his core and rattle him nearly senseless when they looked at him were his wife and Legolas (yes, Thranduil cried the first time his little baby ever looked at him directly and smiled with his fingers reaching out to him), and now this cursed man, Bard.

Sometimes Thranduil wished he was as cold and as hard as he sometimes appeared to be.

He quivered as Bard’s warm hands touched his chest and ran along the shapes of his muscles, going down and up and down again from his abdomen to his shoulders and his arms. The brunette felt with meaning, as if he were looking for something more beyond the skin’s surface. One palm came to rest near the center of Thranduil’s chest, slightly to the left, and the two were frozen together, only their breath distinguishing them from the dead. And then, once the moment of awe between them passed, Bard smiled.

“You are alive.” He said.

“I am.” Thranduil admitted.

He was alive, not just living. He was _alive_.

Thranduil could kiss him. He wanted to, but he wouldn’t. He was in a bad place with a clouded mind and he knew that much. He would not allow himself to make decisions in such a state that could end up as mistakes.

“What game are you playing, Bard?” the blonde asked quietly, almost whispering.

“It’s the game of life, _my_ life. A game against time. I have to move, because if I stay still I’ll lose, but whenever I move I keep going backward. If I keep going backward, I’ll lose.”

“What do you lose, in the end?”

“Everything I’m losing now.” Their gazes locked as Bard looked up at Thranduil from beneath his lashes and his head tilted a tad to the side, his ear flapping for a moment before resuming its perkiness. “I think I can start moving forward now, but I’m starting to fear there’s not much time left.”

“I’ll help you. To the end.” Thranduil said and Bard smiled kindly again, his head finding a resting place on Thranduil’s neck. He gave a melodious purring sound as he rubbed the softness of his hair and his ears against Thranduil’s skin, and Thranduil wanted to hold him and slowly feel him and kiss him all night long. Despite Bard’s knack of aggravating Thranduil, he was sweetness wrapped up in a weird looking package, and a broken man could always use a little more sweetness in his life.

"You are the one, Thranduil."

Bard raised his head and held Thranduil’s arms, leading him toward the bed. He sat and then crawled up the mattress, a perfect curve in his back, and then laid down with a cute sigh. He rubbed the spot beside him, signaling for the blonde to join him. Thranduil did not hesitate and floated through the dreamlike scene onto the bed. He laid on his side and Bard scooted up close, their bodies touching, and curled up into a ball. Thranduil’s arm draped over Bard’s side, holding him and enjoying how warm his body was through the unstoppable, quiet tears that came. He breathed unsteadily, Bard stroking his chest as it moved irregularly until he fell asleep. The last thing he remembered hearing was Bard’s voice.

“We'll win the game, both of us, and everything will be okay.”

The next thing he heard when morning came, through his headache, was Legolas.


End file.
